Comfort
by HopelessRomancer
Summary: Roderich has left Elizaveta after years of marriage. She goes to her best friend Gilbert for comfort. Things escalate quickly. Human names used. Oneshot. Based on my own emotions. Sorry if they're a little OOC, haven't written Hetalia in a long time.


Gilbert picks absent-mindedly at the fraying strands of thread unraveling from the couch he sits on. Across from him, Elizaveta is curled into a large arm chair, her knees tucked up against her chest and thin arms wrapped tightly against her stomach. Gilbert tries not to focus on the way her light brown hair is turned shades of dark copper by the droplets of rain brought with her from outside.

"He's gone," her voice brings Gilbert's pale red eyes up to meet her bright emerald ones.

"I –I'm sorry," Gilbert doesn't know what else to say. After years of poking fun at the spectacled Austrian and wishing to hell he would leave Eliza single and available again, Gilbert curses his tied tongue. As much as he'd fantasized about this moment, where he'd finally get his chance with the girl he'd been chasing after since childhood, Gilbert never expected it to be like this. He almost prefers his own silent suffering, seeing her with Roderich, to the thick grief in her voice when she speaks now.

"Its fine," she laughs like a sad song, "I knew it would happen eventually."

Gilbert clears his throat awkwardly, "Would you like a blanket? Cup of tea maybe? You look kinda…cold." He smacks himself mentally for his unhelpfulness. No _shit_ she's cold. Since when did he care about being helpful anyway?

"That would be rather nice of you. I see your brother _has _managed to get some manners into your thick skull after all," she offers the first real smile all night and Gilbert takes the throw blanket off the old couch, crosses the room and drapes it over her shoulders. Scrambling a bit in the kitchen, he manages to scrounge up a cup of tea. Gilbert hopes it doesn't taste _too_ bad. Ludwig's usually the one who does the cooking.

Gilbert can't meet her gaze, however, when he feels her warm eyes scorching his skin as he hands her the tea. He still feels the intensity of her stare on his back when he returns to his spot on the couch. There are a few more minutes where they sit in a tense, but nonetheless comfortable silence, each of them sipping slowly at their tea.

Then Gilbert is startled by the sudden dipping in the couch cushions next to him. Looking up, he finds Eliza is less than a foot away. She is grinning at him.

"Y'know, it was rather hilarious when you pulled that cake prank on _him_, a few weeks back," she's turned her head to examine the floor but the corners of her eyes are clearly focused on Gilbert.

"You mean the one where I gave him a cake with a balloon in it so it would explode on him when he went to cut it?"

"That's the one. You should've seen his face! I think it scared the spectacles off of him!"

Gilbert loves the way Eliza's hand comes up to cover her mouth as her shoulders begin to shake with laughter. Seeing her happy makes something unfamiliar stir in the Prussian's own cold heart and soon he's laughing with her, narrating more of the countless pranks he's pulled on her Austrian ex husband.

In her laughter, Elizaveta falls against him, shaking his arm with excitement. Grateful for the contact, Gilbert leans into her. Before he knows what is happening, he's staring into her eyes and the suddenly raw emotion there. They are a dreadful mix of agony, grief, desire and _passion, _and anyone could see by the dark circles under her eyelids that she'd been crying earlier.

Then her lips are on his, all fire and need and he's being pushed beneath her. At first he's too shocked to do anything but then his body registers with his mind that this is _Elizaveta Hedervery _and she is _finally_ asking for him. Gilbert responds, sinking into her mouth and bearing his teeth in a grin against her cheek as he pulls back for air. She moves in again though, and she's shifting them both so that he's horizontal on the couch and she's hovering over him. Her hands reach for where his shirt ends and his breath hitches as he feels gentle fingers on his belly.

Even with the heat rushing all over, Gilbert can tell something is off. As she brings her head down again to nip at his jaw, long damp hair flowing over his face and filling him with her scent, he raises a hand and pushes her gently back so that he can look at her.

"Eliza…are you su—?"

"Gil…I'm sorry…" She cuts him off with her words and she's not meeting his gaze. Gilbert knows he should feel the rush of anger and betrayal at what she's doing but even though she won't look him in the eye, he can still see naked burning for comfort etched into every line of her pretty features. So for once, he finds he doesn't care about what he might be doing to himself. Besides, Gilbert can't imagine pushing her away now and watching her walk out his door.

So, shoving his self-preserving conscious into the back of his mind, he moves the hand on her shoulder to the back of her neck, entangling fingers in her hair, and brings her back down into him.

Somehow they move downstairs into the basement where Ludwig has given Gilbert a place to stay, and collapse into the bed. He spares a hand from struggling with Eliza's bra clasp to grasp the covers and toss the heavy comforter about the two of them. It settles like a cocoon around their bodies as Gilbert's other hand manages to undo the clasp on which he's been working and his own shirt is torn off over his head.

Eliza goes for his pants next, fingers shaking as she works on his belt and eventually he is able to kick his jeans –which had become too tight far too long ago –off to the end of the bed. Her own pants, too, are gone before he knows it. She bends down, tongue lapping at the crevice made by his collar bone while her right hand leaves a trail of fire down the pale skin of his belly and lower. Gilbert finds himself too late in biting back the groan that fights its way out from between his teeth. He feels her smirk against his skin and in one swift motion he wraps both arms around her and flips them over, tangling the blankets tighter around them and pinning her arms to his pillows. Heartbeat pounding in time with the rain on the sole window above the headboard Gilbert buries his face into her neck. He removes both his boxers and her panties, letting his hands trace down her ribs and hips. Eliza grins beautifully up at him and arches her back, filling his hips with her own. Gilbert gasps and comes thrusting down with her.

When her last cry breaks the darkness, Gilbert can hear the tears in her voice. And when he finishes shortly after, and collapses into her, he can feel her frame shaking with sobs. So he wraps himself around her and says nothing on her tears. Although she lets him hold her, he can feel her shaking breathing long into the night as he drifts off to sleep.

When Gilbert wakes the next morning the sun is peaking through the window above his headboard, illuminating the empty space next to him. Her clothes are gone, too, along with any other trace that she'd ever been there. Gilbert turns onto his back in bed to stare at the ceiling. Biting back the sadness in his throat, he wonders why he isn't the least bit surprised.


End file.
